Dirty Laundry
by Wolfism
Summary: Marik has to wash clothes, but what happens when Bakura suddenly joins him?


**Title:** Dirty Laundry  
**Pairing:** Marik x Yami Bakura (Thiefshipping)  
**Summary:** Marik is washing clothes, but what happens when Bakura suddenly joins him?  
_**WARNING:**_ Yaoi/Lemon Ahead.

* * *

It was early in the morning, and Marik had awoken out of bed to find clothes all over the place. Of course, he was upset, realizing that his so-called devoted boyfriend, Bakura, hadn't done anything to help. Knowing that arguing with him to wash his clothes would be pointless, Marik set out to do it himself, heading to the laundry room located by the kitchen. It was a bit small, but big enough to fit a washer and dryer, complete with a backdoor. He propped on his elbow, tired and yawning as he poured in washing powder and waited for the machine to fill up with water. He was unaware, however, that he was being watched while doing so. Just as he closed the lid, a pair of cold hands grabbed his hips, making him jump in surprise. They pulled him closer to the body of his captor, before a heated breath warmed the crook of his neck.

"Mariiiik." Bakura cooed.  
Marik sighed. He knew all too well who it was.  
Bakura wrapped his arms around him. "What are you doing? You left me all alone in bed this morning."  
"I'm washing the clothes that you neglected to do."  
"Aw, I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you." Bakura said trailing kisses down Marik's neck, savoring that smooth, bronze skin.  
Marik frowned. "You can make it up to me by washing your own damn clothes next time!"  
"Don't be like that. I can show you something really good..." He trailed off, nipping at the flesh on the Egyptian's collarbone. He found all the right spots that made Marik teeter on edge. He was a monster when it came to seduction. Even though Marik was trying his best to resist, he still did enjoy having Bakura touch him.  
Eventually he gave in. "Fine."  
Bakura smirked. Just the answer he wanted to hear. He reached down and picked Marik up bridal style before sitting him atop the washing machine.  
"Hey, what are you doin- _Mmf!_"

Marik's question was countered by a kiss, catching him off guard and allowing the thief's tongue to slide right in, stealing in his breath and replacing it with lust. Their tongues intertwined in a rough duet, both competing for dominance until Marik conceded defeat, allowing his mouth to be explored fully. Bakura snaked cold hands up his shirt, fingers touching his skin ghost-like before one hand went around his back, tracing the patterns of his ink-engraved tattoo. His other hand fondled with a nipple, pinching and teasing it until it became hard and tender. Marik moaned a few times, loving the feeling of being touched so lovingly.

Bakura stopped the kiss and trailed his hand down to the hem of Marik's pants, unhooking the belt and undoing the zipper. He then slowly slid them off down to his ankles. Marik coaxed Bakura into taking off his shirt, so that he could admire that pretty white, enamored skin. Bakura rested one hand on the Egyptian's thigh, firmly grasping Marik's length with the other and giving it a few strokes. A moan of acceptance was the response and Marik's lips were caught again in another heated kiss. All too soon though, Bakura's hand was replaced with his mouth and Marik's world was lost in lust.

He placed his hands on Bakura's shoulders while the thief worked magic on him, massaging delicately with his tongue and scraping his teeth teasingly over the top. Marik opened his eyes just a bit, watching the ripple of muscles bulge nicely on his back; a feature Bakura showed off well. Suddenly, the washing machine stopped, now done with filling with water.

Marik had almost forgotten about it. He leaned up, hands still on Bakura's shoulders. "B-Bakura," he said through heated breaths, "The washing machine..."  
Bakura just rose a hand to Marik's face and placed a finger on his mouth as if to say _'don't worry about it.'_

Marik complied and continued to let Bakura pleasure him, moving his hands from his shoulders and placing one on the back of the thief's head, entangling fingers in silken, white locks. He used his other hand for support as he leaned back on it. Though, when the washing machine started to vibrate signaling it was now on the wash cycle, Marik almost lost it. His hand on Bakura's head curled up into a fist, grabbing him by the roots. Bakura moaned, loving the Egyptian's abuse, though it was all in good fun. Marik, however, was losing control as he felt himself coming to an end, knots twisting in his stomach and a nice tingling feeling rolling up his back. "B-Bakura, I-I'm gonna, ah!" Marik released his essence into the thief's moth, in which he swallowed hungrily before continuing to suck trying to milk more of that precious liquid.

"Bakura, stop! You're gonna make me explode!" Marik moaned, his body still rocking with delight from his release. He could only begin to wander if Bakura had planned this.  
Letting Marik slip slowly, and reluctantly from his mouth, Bakura stood, casting his dark brown eyes on lavender ones. He wasn't done yet, and Marik knew it.

He soon started to help removing Bakura's own pants, wanting to feel more of that ravenous man. "Patience." Bakura whispered, still allowing Marik to undo the zipper on his pants; he remembered just hopping into bed last night, too tired to change into pajamas. Now he regretted the decision; pajamas would have been easier to slip out off.

His pants dropped to the floor and he pulled Marik closer to him, heat emanating from both of their bodies. The washing machine fell silent again; Bakura smirked. "You know what happens now, don't you?"

Marik looked confused for a bit, before catching on. His eyes widened. "Y-you're not going to...?"  
Bakura nodded evilly. Marik's heart started to race. So this is what the sneaky thief wanted to show him. Pulling Marik just slightly over the edge of the machine, he entered him slowly. Marik moaned letting his head fall back.

"Brace yourself." Bakura said as the washing machine started to shake.  
"Ah! Fuck!" Marik screamed when Bakura started to thrust into him, the violent shaking of the washing machine giving him double the pleasure. He dug his nails into Bakura's back, leaving red imprints so deep they almost threatened to draw blood. Just more marks Bakura could add to the collection. His thrusts were rough, fast, wild, and _dirty_. He tried to match the movements of the washing machine, striking Marik's special spot that made his world dissipate into pure bliss.

"More! Harder!" Marik screamed. The thief began to pick up speed, making both of their bodies rack in pleasure as the intimate exercise continued.  
"Marik, my filthy little Egyptian!" Bakura moaned, his own nails gripping into Marik's back holding onto him while the washing machine continued to shake.

He felt his release coming, and reached in between sweat-soaked bodies to grab Marik's member, pumping it rapidly causing his love to scream out more. It was too much, his body demanded its sweet harmony from the seductive torture and his hot essence spilled over Bakura's hand and stomach. After a few more hard thrusts, Bakura also came, shouting with a scream of ecstasy as he filled Marik.

Tired from the ravenous exercise, both panted heavily, heads resting atop one another's shoulders. Marik had an exhausted, but very satisfied expression on his face.

"Damn!" he said. "Maybe I should do the laundry more often!"


End file.
